Dulcis Pax
by Msynergy
Summary: She's watching him. Post-Pavor Nocturnus.


_Dulcis Pax_

**Disclaimer:** I wish, but no, I don't own the characters/show.

**Author's Note:** I do love how they ended _Pavor Nocturnus_, but those pesky plot nubbins attacked and I was forced to submit, you know how it goes. I also know a few great writers have already touched on this idea regarding Pavor, I just wanted explore it a little further, so this is my take. Also major props to my now unofficial beta Lili! *tackle-hug* Thanks and enjoy!

She's watching him.

He knows she's observant, there's little that escapes those sapphire blues, but lately her study of him has started to become downright creepy.

If he's honest with himself things have been weird between them since she came back from her hunt for the tomb of that Mayan King.

It was small stuff at first, things he'd brushed off with the explanation of too little sleep and too much travel, but three weeks had passed since then, and she still winced whenever he found himself in her personal space.

She's tense even now as he sits in an armchair across from her, reading through what reports they had of a recent Abnormal sighting within Old City limits, looking for clues as to just what they were dealing with.

They'd set numerous traps for the creature, but as it was nocturnal and hadn't done any serious damage to anything or anybody yet, they had very little to go on as to how to catch it. "Too big to be a dog" was all they'd been able to glean from the only eyewitness, a dishwasher on his smoke break who'd seen it rummaging through the restaurant's trash cans before vanishing. Even the security cameras where it was last "sighted" hadn't captured a decent image.

Putting the computer and stylus aside with a sigh, he rubbed his eyes, feeling like his contacts had plastered themselves to his eyeballs he'd been awake for so long. He'd stayed up to look through everything again because she'd asked him to, but it was getting hard to ignore the fact that her eyes have been more on him than the reports for most of the night.

"Okay, seriously, what'd I do?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What did I do to deserve the scrutiny? Every time we're in the same room you look at me like I'm about to grow another head!"

"I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable, Will, I wasn't aware that I was doing it. I'll stop immediately."

It's conversation-ender if he's ever heard one, but something gnaws at the back of his brain, refusing to let him let it go.

"Magnus-"

"Will?"

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop acting like everything's fine, like something hasn't been eating at you since you came back from South America."

"I'm fine, Will. I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh really?"

"Yes."

He stands from his seat and moves around the coffee table covered in coffee and tea mugs and papers, watching as she fights her body's reaction to move away as he comes closer.

"So what's all that about, huh? You've never been a stickler about personal space before, but now it's like you can't stand to have me near you. But then you make up excuses to have me around so you can watch me. What is going on, Magnus?"

"Will, I can't-"

"Can't or won't? You once asked me to be your emotional compass, to tell you when you weren't seeing things clearly. I'm telling you now that whatever it is that's troubling you, you won't be able to keep it like this for long before it starts doing damage," he sighs, "If it hasn't already."

"What do you mean?"

She's obviously talking about the last of his statement, ever perceptive as she is. It's the slight twinge of fear that slips into her tone that convinces him he's finally getting somewhere.

"I don't know, all I know is that it can't go on like this, something's got to give."

She's silent at that, and he sighs again, wondering if he's done more harm than good by calling her out on her behavior, but he does know he doesn't have anything left to say and is still very tired.

"I don't think we're going to find anything new from looking at these papers one more time. I'm going to bed, good night Magnus."

He's half way to the door when her voice stops him, so small and hesitant he has to look at her to make sure she's the one actually talking.

"I did find the tomb, but what I found was not what I expected."

He walks slowly back, slowly easing himself into the empty seat next to her on the couch, unsure how she will react but pleasantly surprised when she doesn't immediately tense up.

Her eyes, however, never leave her hands as they twist about anxiously on her lap, letting him know she's not quite over her anxiety just yet. Hopefully, though, he'll soon be learning just why she was feeling that way in the first place.

"I found you."

He might have laughed out loud if her expression hadn't been so deathly serious. She was telling the truth, but how?

"Maybe it was just a dream, maybe I really was thrown forward in time, but what I saw I will never forget. I found you, but you were not as you are now. Cold, merciless, empty."

Her expression tears him apart, so sad and distant. He would do just about anything to have her watching him and acting like everything was okay again just then. But the proverbial Genie is out of the bottle, and whatever she saw, it hadn't been pretty.

"But that's not me, Magnus," He reaches out to try and reassure, placing his hand carefully on her arm. He expects her to reject his touch, but he doesn't expect her to hiss in pain.

"Magnus?"

She allows him to roll up the sleeve of her blouse, all of a sudden seemingly too tired to keep up the charade any longer, and he jerks away in horror when he sees the handprint bruise that fits his own hand perfectly.

He'd hurt her, whoever he'd been, was, would be. He'd seen to many wonderfully terrifying things not to believe what she'd told him since he'd started to work at the Sanctuary. This was just physical proof.

"Magnus…"

The idea that he would ever raise a hand to her makes him physically ill, and it he forces himself to swallow the bile as he wonders what else he'd done. And what could he say, really? _Sorry I apparently treated you like shit in the future? Won't happen again?  
_  
"Will, please-"

"Well now I know why you've been skittish around me at least," He shakes his head, carefully rolling back her sleeve and rising from the couch. "Not that I blame you."

"Will, he wasn't you; I see that now. I've been watching you these last couple weeks because I've been coming to that conclusion. Whatever circumstances made that man what he was have changed, I made sure of it!"

"You?"

"Yes," Apparently it's her turn to look sick, which makes him reach out unconsciously despite all he's heard and seen tonight.

His hand reaches to touch her shoulder gently as he sits back down, but there's no reaction, her eyes gazing off into a time and place he could never imagine.

"It was because of me. All because of me that you, that you all, died. I wanted so badly to be normal once more, to never again outlive everyone I care about, and because of it I sentenced all of you to misery and death."

She hasn't really told him anything, but something in his gut tells him it's better that way. That sometimes too much honesty doesn't do anyone any good, and if what she had said is true, which he knows it is, he can't say he really wants to know the details. Because if such details could rip apart the likes of Helen Magnus, he doubted a mere mortal could handle it.

She hasn't looked at him through the whole of her speech, but it doesn't take a psychologist to notice the tremble in her shoulders were his hand still sits, or the suspicious wetness of her hands as she stares down at them.

"C'mere."

It's a simple request, no strings, no promises, but it's all it takes for her to wrap her arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.

His own arms wrap around her quickly, and they stay that way for a long time until he finally feels the damp front of his shirt start to dry, and her breath even out against his neck.

He doesn't want to think about how little sleep she's gotten in the face of this latest ordeal, but he's happy she'll finally get some now.

Rather than try and untangle himself from their embrace, he simply toes off his shoes and leans back onto the couch with her in tow, her breathing never changing as he does so.

And that's where he stays for the rest of the night, ready with a soft word and comforting touch to chase away the monsters and ghosts when she cries out in sleep, even when they wear his face.


End file.
